The First Century

Yesterday I did something I've never done before; I rode my bike 100 miles--my first century. Karen and I drove to St. George to participate in the Tour de St. George. Karen rode the 35 mile distance, and felt so good after it that she was disappointed that she didn't go for the 60 mile distance. 

I had never actually gone for more than a 40 mile ride, although I told Karen that I'd ridden 60 miles before when she expressed stern disapproval of my wishes to do the century (which could have had something to do with my tendency to be a tad overzealous with my physical activities and then hurt myself in the process). 

The course, with approximately 6,000 feet of vertical climb, is a pretty tough one. For those of you familiar with the greater St. George metropolitan area, the course started at the Tabernacle, headed through Washington Fields and around Sand Hollow; went through Tocquerville, Leeds, and Hurricane; wound around Quail Creek Reservoir and back to St. George; headed up and up and up and up the highway to the top of Snow Canyon before going down Snow Canyon; then it wound through Santa Clara and Ivins before finishing back at the Tabernacle.

I thought that I'd let you know how the ride felt through the course. Here is a brief log. 

Mile 10 Wow, was that really only 10 miles? 

Mile 20 We certainly have climbed a lot of hills. The race organizers seem awfully focused on inclines in elevation. 

 

Mile 30 I am in heaven. The road is smooth and the course is gorgeous. I can't believe how pretty Sand Hollow is. I could do this forever. I am passing people left and right. 

Mile 35 That was an incredibly brief ride downhill after all that climbing. 

Mile 40 I have never ridden my bike 45 mph...nice!

Here I am at about mile 45 

Mile 50 I can hardly wait for the lunch stop. I am starving. By the way, have you ever spent a few hours in cycling cleats? It has been a while since I could feel my feet. 

Mile 55 I can't believe how tired I am. Even flat ground fills like an incline. My hands are now so tired that it hurts to shift gears.  

Mile 65 I can't remember my name or what year it is. The sun is awfully hot and my vision is blurred; all I can see is one hill after another. My neck is so tired that I can barely lift my head up. I still can't feel my feet. My skin is cracking and salty from all the sweat. 

Mile 70 The lady at the last water stop said it was only 10 miles to the top of Snow Canyon. What a sadistic sense of humor she has.

Mile 75 I can't remember the last time my speed was in the double digits. I really, really, really wish I could downshift right now. What I wouldn't give for a third sprocket on my bike. 

Mile 80 We are finally going downhill. Snow Canyon is really steep. My hands are exhausted from braking. I don't know what is the most tired--my legs, my neck, or my hands. 

Mile 85 Unbelievable. We are going uphill again. 

Mile 90 I want my mommy. 

Mile 95 Ok, I can do this. But at 5 mph it is going to take a while to get to the finish line. 

Mile 100 I thought this thing was only 100 miles. 

Mile 102 I just hit the wall for the third time. 

Mile 103 I never thought of Main Street as an imposing hill before today. 

Mile 104 Jubilation! (And no, the finish line had not yet been taken down by the time I got there). 

Jack and me at the finish line. 

Suffice it to say it was a great experience and I almost can't wait to do it again, although I'll need at least a few days before I can even look at a bicycle seat. 

 

Here is my cute biker wife after she finished the 35 mile course. 

I have Doug, my brother-in-law, to thank for these fine race photographs. This is a self-portrait. 

I have Alisha, my sister-in-law, to thank for watching Jack while both Karen and I were on the race course, for driving Doug around while he could take these ever-so-flattering pictures of me in full-body spandex, and--most importantly--for marrying Doug.